Temptation Calls. Caridad Pineiro

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      The rush that had come from feeding on Diego was indescribable. From the first taste of his blood, energy had surged through her, charging every atom in her body with incredible potential. Invigorating all her senses until everything seemed more alive than ever.

      She’d taken only a few sips, afraid of the intensity of that kiss. Afraid of the passion that might rise within her. Sexual urges that would need to be assuaged had she fed even a drop more.

      She avoided passion. In her life, passion had invariably led to pain. First her husband. Then the vampire who’d turned her. It was why she avoided any kind of involvement.

      Once passion entered the mix, everything was sure to change.

      Even a hint of desire was enough to incite her fear, which was why she didn’t linger with Diego. When she reached the shelter just past midnight some of the effects of her feeding had worn off, but not entirely. Like someone who was over-caffeinated, she was unable to rest. Unable to remain confined. So she slipped into the night, leaping from rooftop to rooftop as she surveyed her neighborhood to make sure all was right. It was something she regularly did to keep the neighborhood safe. Even though she rarely saw anyone during her solitary patrols, she knew her neighbors believed her responsible for the improvements in their lives.

      She paused her patrol after an hour to watch the fast rush of clouds across the face of the moon. A storm was on its way, she could smell it. When the first drops arrived, she turned her face to the sky and let the chill rain wash over her. It cleansed away the smell of Diego and his blood, cooled the heat of her skin from her transformation and the feeding.

      The calm lasted only until she returned to the shelter. A flat of bright salmon-colored impatiens and a note from Sofia waited for her on the kitchen table. Detective Daly dropped by with these flowers and some questions.

      She didn’t know what to think about the flowers. She took them out to the small brick patio just beyond the French doors to catch the spring rain.

      The flowers sat there for the rest of the night and into the early morning while she worked off some of the blood-induced energy by making lunches for the children and working mothers and preparing that morning’s breakfast.

      Dawn was just breaking when Sofia came down, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “You’re up earlier than usual.”

      “I couldn’t sleep.”

      “Thinking about the good detective?” Sofia asked as she made a pot of coffee.

      Yes, Samantha thought, but she shook her head. “Nope. Just worried about a friend.” Which wasn’t far from the truth. The night had come and gone with them finding out nothing about Meghan’s whereabouts. It wasn’t like they could go to the authorities for help.

      As she’d put the impatiens on the patio, she’d let herself imagine how the good detective might react if she asked for his assistance.

      Hello, my friend Meghan is missing.

      Any distinguishing characteristics?

      Why, yes. Fangs and a bad temper when deprived of blood.

      He would think she was certifiable. Not that she cared what he thought.

      Then she had little time to think about anything as the morning rush commenced, with the women and kids shuttling in and out of the kitchen, preparing for another day.